


of coffee and (questionable) first impressions

by Phierie



Series: Phierie's Stephen Strange Bingo 2019 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Canon-Typical Violence, Ironstrange if you squint, M/M, Miscommunication, Mistaken Identity, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-12 22:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19238086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phierie/pseuds/Phierie
Summary: It wasn't Tony's fault, not really. Anyone would see an abandoned warehouse and a lone wizard and wouldn't be able to help jumping to conclusions. Right?





	of coffee and (questionable) first impressions

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt 'Mistaken Identity' on my Stephen Strange bingo card. 
> 
> Extra content warning for a brief description of a panic attack - it's not dwelled on long and isn't hugely integral to the story so you can easily skip that part if you want.

A dreary Monday afternoon and a stack of SI paperwork. It’s days like these that Tony finds himself longing for something a little less ordinary.

He knows better than to genuinely wish for that, because him sitting around bored out of his mind is probably a good sign for the world at large. A lack of world-shaking imminent threats is never a bad thing.

Still - it’s been a slow, tedious month.

He glances down at the papers on the desk in front of him. Plans for new products, mostly, and manufacturing and distribution timelines - it might be interesting if not for the fact he just has to sign them off. Admin work’s not really his _job_ , and he says as such every time Pepper sends her wide-eyed PA over to the tower to drop off the latest pile of envelopes. Pepper tells him to suck it up and get on with it, which is probably fair.

His thoughts begin to wander elsewhere, namely to his latest Spiderman suit prototype, sat staring at him from the corner of the lab - it just needs some kind of mechanism to stabilise the motion of the extra four legs, a new feedback algorithm or something – when FRIDAY’s cheery voice sounds throughout the room.

“ _Boss. The New York energy sensors have picked up on something you might want to take a look at_ ,” the AI announces. “ _I’m not interrupting, am I_?”

“God, no, please,” he groans, and puts thoughts of paperwork far behind him. This sounds way more interesting. “What you got for me, FRI?”

An image of New York pops up on his screen, zoomed in to Lower Manhattan. A small red dot covers a building facing the river on the Lower East side – looks like some kind of warehouse, from the top down. Every now and then the dot pulses slightly.

“ _Sensors picked up an unusual energy source originating from this disused warehouse, from five minutes ago. The readings have continued coming in consistently since then suggesting it’s not an anomaly, as I first thought_.”

“Unusual how?” Tony asks.

“ _The energy signature matches nothing in the database. I can’t quantify it; it’s completely foreign_.”

Okay, that’s… weird. “Huh,” Tony draws out, watching the dot on the map. “We have a visual inside this place?”

“ _Unfortunately not, only of the exterior. CCTV cameras have been disconnected or removed since the warehouse fell into disuse a year ago_.”

“Shame. Well, good excuse to try out the new suit, eh FRI?” he remarks, and makes his way out of the lab.

Not a minute later Tony is coasting the skies over Manhattan, wrapped in the nanotech Iron Man suit. When he reaches the warehouse overlooking the East River, he stops, hovering just above the entrance, and activates infrared viewing mode. He’s surprised to see only one heat signature, further inside the building. Small, person sized.

Whether that’s a good sign or not, he’s not sure, but it does make him even more curious as to how a single person is giving off such a large energy signal of _indeterminable origin_.

Tony scans the warehouse, but there’s no easy access points into the building, except for a few tiny windows lining the top, and he’s willing to bet the large hangar doors around the sides are locked. Not like that’s much of a problem, but the smaller one at the front has a broken padlock, one of the doors left slightly ajar. It’s almost _too_ perfect, Tony could laugh.

Stealth has never really been Tony’s strong suit, though. Emboldened – perhaps by adrenaline, the new suit, the fact there’s only one person inside – Tony takes the obvious route, and pulls the door open just enough for him to slip through.

Through the doors there’s a large hallway, empty, and gloomy from lack of light. To his left and right there are abandoned offices with broken windows looking out at the hallway. No signs of life in this part of the building, but he can hear noises coming from further in. Sounds like hissing or fizzing, and it makes Tony’s skin crawl for reasons he’s not totally sure of.

He charges his repulsors in advance, hands raised, sharp focus on the hall in front of him. A little way down it opens out into the main room – it’s brighter in here, sunlight filtering in from the small windows lining the tops of the walls.

There’s a person in the centre of the warehouse – a man, wearing some sort of robes and a long red cape, which flutters out behind him despite there being no wind inside.

Which would be weird enough on it’s own, even without the bright circular lights which emanate from his hands – amber-yellow, gold and pulsing, intricate patterns spinning and shifting in the air.

What the actual _hell_ , half of his mind asks; _magic_ , the other supplies. Which he would brush off as bullshit, usually, but the golden discs at the man’s hands look so real and bright and the sensors in his suit are going _crazy_ , spitting out numbers and warnings which cover his vision in red. Tony’s heart catches in his throat; not in a good way.

And he doesn’t know how but he can practically feel the vortex of power converging on the man – the wizard? _Seriously_? – and his brain shuts down, puts a big nope over whatever the shit is going on here – and he shoots.

Just a warning shot, enough to stun or knock out at most. Just to get a feel for what this guy’s schtick is.

The other man is facing away, not noticing him, so Tony is a little surprised when he’s yanked back by some kind of unseen force, the repulsor blast dancing through the air an inch from his chest. It hits the far wall instead of it’s intended target, and the man sharply glances over to Tony; his eyes widen in surprise.

So: magic, and he’s kinda fast, maybe. Tony can work with that.

He raises his other hand, fingers waggling in a warning gesture. “That was a warning shot, by the way. Move even one of those fancy fingers and it’ll be the real deal.”

“Tony Stark, seriously?” Wizard-guy mutters under his breath. Magic circles still buzzing at his fingertips. He looks over with a frown and calls out to Tony. “Stark, you should _not_ be here. Leave, now; it’s too dangerous, even for you.”

Which, okay, is not what Tony is expecting. Maybe he’s just trying to get Tony to lower his guard? Weird, but he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Alright, Mr. Cryptic, how bout you tell me what exactly it is you’re doing here?”

The other man looks exasperated, verging on panicked. Could mean Tony has him backed into a corner, and that could be good or bad. Tony doesn’t lower his repulsors. Doing this the easy way would be preferable, but something tells him this guy is stubborn enough that things might not be so simple.

“Cult rituals take place in abandoned warehouses these days? If a monster is about to pop out of the ground or something, I swear I’m gonna be pissed.”

“Stark, you don’t understand – you have to _go_.”

“Yeah, nah, I think I’m alright. But please, go on.”

“You -” the guy cuts off abruptly; his eyes widen, a little unfocused. “Don’t move,” he says, and in a swift movement raises one of his hands and a white bolt of pure energy shoots out from the magic circle directly towards Tony.

Tony doesn’t think, just darts to his side, suit powering up around him. _Here’s the real fight_. The switch flicks and now Tony really _is_ pissed, and he makes a beeline for the magician across the warehouse floor.

The wizard seems distracted, or something, but he throws up his shields in front of himself to block Tony’s assault. A second too late; Tony grabs him by the throat and tackles him to the floor, obstructing his movement, one hand keeping him in a chokehold and the other gauntlet raised, ready to fire if he tries anything. His legs and feet keep the guy’s hands trapped at the wrists – hopefully he can’t use magic like that. He hisses slightly through clenched teeth when Tony shifts his weight.

It’s almost suspiciously easy. The guy isn’t very strong physically, though Tony guesses that makes sense, given: wizard, and all.

“ _Guh_ – get – off of me, you _idiot_ –” he chokes out, still putting up a fight, struggling to escape Tony’s hold. Tony tightens his grip.

“Nuh-uh. This is the point where I talk, and you answer,” Tony replies. “Who the hell are you? Why are you here, and what’s the deal with the magic?”

The man beneath Tony glares furiously at him – his eyes are sharp, intense, a beautiful shade of blue. Not at all evil-wizard like, but then what does Tony know about that.

“I’m - _trying_ – to save your ass, you – ungrateful bastard!”

Yeah, like hell.

The guy winces when Tony leans a little harder onto his wrists. “Oh yeah? Then why’d you shoot at me?”

“I wasn’t – aiming at _you_ , I was –"

Tony doesn’t get to hear the end of that sentence as a force knocks into him, sending him flying into the back wall of the warehouse. He hits the ground hard. It takes him a second; he blinks, looks around the room for whatever just hit him.

It’s completely empty save for the wizard, struggling to his feet himself. He has back-up? As if this situation could get any better.

Tony’s about to just shoot the damn guy again when the force returns, and something like a tentacle immobilises Tony’s arm. He shoots blindly at the air and it seems to retreat for a second, before it multiplies and wraps round his chest, crushing the armour against him, lifting him a foot off the ground.

Which is really weird, considering he can’t see _anything_ there, and it’s as if he’s being strangled by the air itself. He gasps out, trying to breathe. Fucking _magic_.

“I was _aiming_ -” the wizard continues from across the room, voice deep and gravelly – “for the giant squid monster that just emerged from the portal I was trying to _close_ , before I was so rudely interrupted, that is now trying to kill you.” His hands alight with the glow of a magic shield again, and he conjures a double-bladed axe into his other hand. “Don’t move.”

As if Tony could if he wanted to this time. Fair play, he supposes.

The wizard and the invisible monster trade a few magical blows – Tony may not be able to see the monster but he can see the dark beams of energy it spits out, black and glowing purple, which the wizard blocks with his gold shield. The guy steps in closer, swift movements bringing him up a few feet in the air, and he swings the axe down in an arc next to Tony. The pressure around Tony’s chest eases, and he manages to disentangle himself, flying back and blasting the empty space behind him for good measure.

“Get behind me,” wizard-guy says, falling back to Tony’s side on the ground. And as wary as Tony still is of the guy, he’s more wary of the huge tentacle monster he can’t see, so he obliges.

The wizard twirls the axe in his hands with surprising grace. “And for the record, you shot at me first,” he says, not looking at Tony, but at the empty room in front of them. “Doctor Strange.”

“Doctor – what?”

“My name, asshole,” the guy – Strange? Definitely – says, glancing to Tony with a wry grin, strands of dark hair falling across his forehead where they’ve been knocked out of place. It’s quite the sight. “Now are you going to leave, or what?”

“Not sure it’s in my contract to do that when giant angry squid monsters are on the loose, Doc,” Tony quips in reply. Another blast of magic arcs across the room, which Strange blocks with his shield. “You take point. I’ll follow.”

“It’s not going to be enough,” Strange mutters, and glances behind to Tony. “You -” he begins but is cut off when the unseen monster blasts him across the room.

“Strange!” Tony calls out - surprised at how concerned he is given that he was trying to do the same not five minutes ago – and flies over to help Strange to his feet. A small trail of blood streaks down his forehead, and he groans as he holds his head, staggers a little, but is kept upright by something – his cape, maybe? It seems to defy gravity and spreads out around the man like the ruff of an animal. In warning, Tony assumes.

Tony backs off once he’s stable on his feet again, but the monster quickly circles back – or at least, he assumes so given how Strange casts a large golden shield in front of the two of them to block the magical blasts.

Strange glances over and Tony can see the exertion from keeping the shield up on his face. Through grit teeth he asks, “you really want to help?”

“Yeah, yes, tell me what to do,” Tony replies.

“Take off your helmet,” Strange commands, and reaches out towards his forehead with a glowing hand. “And hold still.”

Tony jerks back immediately. “Woah, woah, no way. You’re not messing with my head,” Tony snaps, trying – and failing – to keep his tone lighthearted, his heart feeling slightly like it’s trying to jump out his throat. So maybe this guy isn’t as evil as Tony originally assumed, but still. That’s a step _way_ too far.

Another onslaught from the monster crashes into the shield; the gold light flickers slightly. Strange looks at him in annoyance.

“I’m not – look, do you want to help or not? You either leave me to it, or you _trust_ me. I promise, I’m not going to harm you.” Strange is looking at him, his gaze serious and steady. Blood and dirt both coat his face now, and Tony almost hates to admit, but he’s convinced Strange is telling the truth.

Tony takes a deep breath behind the cover of the helmet. Silently curses himself for getting into this mess.

He retracts the nanotech helmet, and Strange’s eyes only widen slightly at the sight. He conjures a small palm-sized mandala again and he brings it to Tony’s forehead – his hand trembling ever so, Tony can’t help but notice. A patchwork of what looks like scars crisscrosses the backs of his fingers and palms, illuminated by harsh gold.

And then Strange’s middle finger lightly makes contact with his skin, and his entire vision is flooded in light. Tony is about to jerk away again but the light fades as quickly as it appeared, and then Strange steps away and Tony has to fight to not yell because suddenly he can see the giant squid monster in front of them.

The thing is huge, takes up nearly half of the warehouse room they’re in. It’s a sickly white colour, with long tendrils overlapping each other and reaching out in every direction – not really a squid, but he can see that’s the easiest comparison for whatever eldritch abomination it is. Eyes coat its tentacles all the way to the tips, converging in the centre where there must be at least a hundred, and they all blink thickly every few seconds out of time with each other. The whole thing smells strangely like gasoline, and Tony has to try hard not to gag.

Strange glances over at him and nods, as if admiring his handiwork. The creature lets out a roar which Tony couldn’t hear before, and it sends a shiver up his spine. It’s eyes seem to focus on him like it’s aware it’s being seen.

The tentacles light up shades of purple and more of the magical blasts are sent towards them; Strange grunts in exertion keeping the shield up.

“Now you can see it,” he says between gasps, “things should be easier. The creature is in our plane of reality; your attacks on it worked earlier. It was just concealed to you by a particularly – ugh -- _tricky_ spell.”

“What do you want me to do, Doc?” Tony asks, slightly more panicked now the true nature of the threat is revealed. “Think we need backup?”

“No,” Strange huffs. “It’s more concerned with me because it knows I can send it back where it belongs. I’ll distract it, you circle around and weaken it however you can.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “You sure…?”

“Yes, now go. I’m dropping the shield,” Strange says, intense focus on the monster before them. Tony calls his helmet back and flies across the room to the creature’s back (although it looks the same from all directions, so that’s hard to call).

He sees Strange making some hand gesture and then his arms multiply, and then there’s ten of him spread out around the front of the monster, and it’s a testament to how weird this day has been that Tony’s barely even surprised.

Each of the Stranges conjure glowing shields and strands of magic, and the creature roars again trying to hit them all. Tony sees his opportunity and sends out half a dozen rockets from his suit and hits it with his repulsors at full power, all aimed at the centre of the beast.

Which seems to work, at least he thinks. At one point Tony has to dodge a blast but otherwise the monster’s keeps it’s attention on trying to swat the Stranges out of the sky – clearly, intelligence is not it’s strong suit, which is probably a blessing.

A blast hits directly into what must be the actual Strange, because when he falls to the ground the others snap back to him like elastic. The monster roars and begins charging up an energy ball, several tentacles working in tandem.

“Uh, Strange -” Tony begins but is cut off.

“Keep going!” Strange yells and Tony doesn’t have to be told twice. He sends the rest of his stored ammunition towards the monster and really hopes Strange is going to do something because that’s _it_ , and even his repulsor energy reserves won’t last long if he continues at this rate.

Something like sparks fall into Tony’s vision and at first he thinks it a fault with his system, until he looks up and sees the huge golden portal forming parallel to the ground. Beyond the portal there’s a void of black, with small purple and pink lights pulsing in the distance and Tony doesn’t know how exactly but he’s certain it’s nowhere on Earth.

The sight sends a shiver of something like dread, primal, ice cold fear through him, but the next second the portal falls onto the weakened monster and it’s gone. Tony powers off his blasters, tries to still his arms from shaking; across the room Strange falls back onto the ground.

It’s too quiet, now, and when Tony’s feet hit the floor he retracts his helmet, as if he needs to see it plainly with his own two eyes. He glances over to Strange – the other man is sat on the floor, arms resting against his knees, but for some reason Tony’s legs won’t work and he can’t walk over to him, and nothing even feels _real_ because did that _seriously just happen_? The image of that world beyond the portal seeps it’s way into his mind like a poison, and then he’s both here and trapped through a portal to deep space, Chitauri ships looming above him.

He can feel his breaths getting shorter, and he’s aware of the fact he’s shaking and the room around him is becoming increasingly blurred, and it only serves to heighten the panic because he can’t _stop_ it.

“Hey?”

He distantly hears the voice, at his side, deep and gentle – Strange? Oh, right. Strange. He’s still here.

“Hey, Stark? You need to sit down?”

Tony tries to make some non-committal shrug, or brush him off, but no sound comes out of his mouth when he tries to respond. Strange guides him to sit on the floor and kneels next to him, a hand at his back.

“Stark. You’re having a panic attack,” Strange states, and _no fucking shit_ , Tony wants to reply but he still can’t even breathe properly between gasps. “Breathe with me, okay? In. And out.”

Strange guides him through breathing for what feels like forever but, it helps, as does the light hand at his back and the solid concrete ground beneath him.

His breathing eases out, eventually, and he feels like he can hold coherent thought in his mind again. No more portals to other worlds or alien monsters; it’s over. It’s okay. Tony lets out a shuddering sigh. “Jesus,” he mutters, wiping away the moisture that’s collected at his eyes and nose.

“You okay?” Strange’s soft voice asks once more. He withdraws his hand from Tony’s back. Tony glances over to meet his eyes, so full of genuine concern and oh, hell. Tony tries to chew down the pure embarrassment as he realises he totally just had a full on meltdown on this guy. _Excellent first impression Tony, good job_.

“I – uh. Yeah. I’m good now. Thanks,” he stutters out.

“No need to thank me,” Strange mumbles, looking off to the side. So not great at this kind of thing either. “I _am_ a doctor, though, ah. Not really my speciality.”

“Yeah, more monsters and magic and shit, huh?” Tony can’t help but quip back as he hauls himself to his feet. “Jesus,” he repeats. “Do I even want to know?”

He’s half convinced Strange is going to bolt – take off in a poof of smoke or something – so Tony is surprised when he gets to his feet and doesn’t make to go anywhere.

He moves a little slower than before though, and seems dead tired as he looks over, and only then Tony remembers he had been thrown around like a ragdoll a couple of times back there in the battle, and his attire hardly looks suited for it. Strange winces a little and it also occurs to Tony that he wasn’t exactly soft on the guy either when he still assumed foul play from the wizard, and then Tony feels quite awful about the entire thing.

“Look, hey,” Tony begins again before Strange can speak. “I think… we got off on the wrong foot. My bad, mostly. Let me make it up to you? I feel like I owe you.”

“What, for assuming I was some kind of super-villain and attacking me?” Strange asks sarcastically, eyebrows raised.

“Well – c’mon, are you really gonna make me… okay. Yes, fine. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. I’d get it if you were… well. Y’know, not super happy about that.”

Strange gives him a funny look, and eventually glances off with a small sigh. “It’s fine. Water under the proverbial bridge. You don’t ‘owe’ me anything.”

“Kinda feel like I do,” Tony admits. “Seriously though, name whatever. Can I at least get you patched up for the uh…” Tony gestures vaguely to his own face. “I know the best private doctors in town. No questions asked.”

Strange chuckles a bit and shakes his head. “I’m fine. Though, if you insist… I wouldn’t say no to a coffee.”

“A coffee,” Tony repeats. “To make up for… _all_ this.”

Strange shrugs. “Sure. I think that’s fair.”

 

 

Half an hour later (ten minutes to get the coffee, twenty to stop to take a picture with practically everyone in the vicinity of the coffee shop – thank goodness it’s a weekday and so was relatively empty) Tony lands on a rooftop at the Lower East Side.

Strange is sat on the floor, leaning against the low brick ledge of the roof. He looks up as Tony walks over and hands him one of the Starbucks cups. Strange mutters a quick ‘thank you’ and cradles the cup in both hands.

Tony taps at the nanobot housing on his chest and as the suit retracts, he sits down with a sigh. He takes his sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and puts them on.

“Hell of a day.”

“Agreed.”

“Suppose it could’ve gone a lot worse, all things considered. You wanna tell me what that was all about now?” Tony asks.

“It’s as I said,” Strange begins, with a slight sigh. “A portal to another dimension opened. I detected it not an hour ago and was attempting to close it before anything found it’s way through, but, well. I think you got the gist of the rest.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “So… portals like that a common occurrence in New York? How is it I’ve been sleeping on them this whole time?”

“Actually, yes - though more like rifts. Small scratches in the fabric shielding this reality from others are everywhere,” Strange says matter-of-factly, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Cloaked from those without a connection to the mystic arts, of course. I temporarily granted you use of that link earlier to allow you to… see beyond the veil, as it were. It’s already worn off – don’t worry.

“Though, rarely are they on this scale. Large, traversable portals are not common, nor natural. This was something else entirely.”

Strange seems solemn as he frowns down at his coffee cup. And Tony has to let that all sink in a second – any other time if someone told him a story like that he would laugh, but he did just see that monster with his own eyes. And felt it, and all the rest, so even he’s not stubborn enough to say it wasn’t _real_.

Tony lets out a breath and takes a swig of hot coffee. “Yeah, okay. That’s a lot.”

“Indeed.”

“So if you say this rift-y whatever wasn’t made naturally – how come it was here? You think someone made it, like yours?”

Strange glances sharply to Tony. “That’s an interesting suggestion. It’s possible.”

“Wait, so there _are_ actually evil wizards out there I need to worry about?” Tony asks, half joking, but also half apprehensive this whole thing is bigger than he thought. _Hell of a day_. “Was I just lucky that I got to meet one of the nice ones first?”

“Well I’m glad you think I’m _nice_ ,” Strange deadpans in reply. “None you personally need to worry about.”

“Hmm. I ain’t buying it, Doc.”

“Whatever really happened today, we can take care of it. As everything.”

“We? Who’s we?”

Strange sighs and looks heavenward as if asking for help. Maybe literally, Tony can’t tell. He pushes himself off the ground and looks out over the city towards the river; the building isn’t tall and the warehouse they were in earlier can be seen from their vantage point. Tony follows him after a second, though more interested in Strange than the view.

“I am a Master of the Mystic Arts,” Strange states. “Part of an order that has existed for centuries, and, with any luck, centuries to come. We harness and utilise energy from the multiverse to protect this world from mystic threats from this dimension and others. It… basically amounts to magic, yes, but it’s a little more refined than the concept as you know it.”

“Right,” Tony replies, drawing out the word. He takes a sip of coffee. “And if your order is so all-seeing and powerful why is it I haven’t heard _anything_ about it before today?”

“Because we’re good,” Strange replies without missing a beat. “Collectively, that is. And I got sloppy.” Tony raises an eyebrow in question.

“I forgot the cloaking spell for my magic today,” Strange somewhat reluctantly explains. “Which meant a large unexplained energy source for anyone who happened to be looking, and a rather unfortunate situation that has led to me now explaining _magic_ to _Tony Stark_.”

“Touché,” Tony mutters. “But seriously? You’ve been here this whole time, and no one at all is the wiser?”

Strange fixes him with a serious look – one that tells of deeper, darker things, that reflects only a fraction of what _mystic threats_ really means. Tony couldn’t even fathom a guess.

“It’s for the best that no one knows of the work we do,” Strange says, and horrifying tentacle-eye monsters and worlds of black and purple come to mind, and Tony thinks that’s probably true. Still – it’s one thing to save the world, another to have no one even know about it. Maybe it’s a better deal – lord knows Tony would trade the press and the politics any day – but, he thinks, looking at Strange’s tired and yet accepting expression, forehead still smudged with dried blood from the fight and Starbucks cup in his hands - maybe it’s not.

“Okay. I get that,” he says anyway.

Strange nods in response. A quiet falls as they finish their coffee, looking out over the city, listening to the bustle of traffic and people down below, dulled slightly by the distance. When Tony’s done Strange takes his cup and magicks them away – hopefully to the trash – and Tony has a feeling he might just be showing off.

Tony shakes his head and lets the breeze gently ruffle his hair. He turns back to see Strange rubbing at his wrist with his other hand. When Tony stops to look he can see the scars covering Strange’s fingers and hands more clearly – not just a trick of the light, earlier. And they’re shaking again, too, or perhaps it’s that they never stopped. Guilt worms it’s way into Tony’s stomach at the sight.

Tony glances up to see the other man looking at him, and quickly averts his gaze. He says nothing.

“So,” Tony begins again after a beat, licking his lips. “What happens if I come across another monster like that? Or some kind of cursed demon? You got a number I can call? Office hours?”

Strange actually laughs this time, though shortly. “Not so much. I think I can safely say that if you were to come across any situation that would demand my attention, we’ll already be there. With any luck we’ll never have to meet again, Stark,” he says with a small quirk of his lips as he looks Tony in the eye.

“Hmm. Suppose that would make sense.” Something akin to disappointment pulls at Tony’s chest. Which is crazy, because it’s _magic_ , and if Tony never had to think about magic ever again that would be fine by him, usually.

But it’s also Strange, and he’s interesting. Kinda frustrating, and way too cryptic, but also calm and measured. _Trustworthy_ even comes to mind, but Tony knows better than to believe his gut feelings on that.

Maybe it’s that he helped Tony out of that panic attack earlier and hasn’t even said another word about it. There’s also something else – something enigmatic that he sees in Strange’s gaze. Melancholy, even. Maybe it _is_ just a trick of the light this time, but he doesn’t think it is.

When there’s a problem, an issue to be resolved, Tony has a habit of throwing himself into learning as much as possible to overcome it. He tells himself it’s merely the same here; either way he wants to know more about the mysterious doctor.

“Well, regardless,” Strange continues, “I hope you understand, Stark, that I require the utmost discretion from you if you’re to go back to your world knowing what you now know of mine.”

“You want me to keep it secret,” Tony translates. Strange inclines his head in affirmal. “Or what? You gonna magic away my memories?”

“Yes,” Strange replies plainly. “If necessary, to protect my colleagues and I, and to protect the world at large from _knowing_ , I would. I don’t want to though - it feels wrong, to mess with someone’s thoughts and mind that way.”

Tony regards him for a second. “Okay, I get it, Doc. I solemnly swear to not tell a soul, or whatever,” He raises his hands in mock surrender, but his tone is serious. Not like anyone would even believe him if he did try to tell them about… _this_ , anyway.

Strange nods. “Thank you. I should probably take my leave now.”

“Alright. But don’t be a stranger, Strange,” Tony says with a wink. He grins at Strange’s exasperated expression.

“Was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Maybe. Was it funny?”

“No. Terrible.” Strange conjures another, smaller golden portal with some lazy hand gestures and steps through. “Goodbye, Stark.” Tony thinks he spots a tiny smile on Strange’s lips, but maybe he’s seeing things, because in a second the portal closes with a short _woosh_ of finality, leaving the rooftop silent but for the sounds of the city.

Tony lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “Please tell me you got that, FRI.”

“ _Nanotech sensors recorded an energy spike at this location just now_ ,” FRIDAY’s voice sounds next to his ear, and a small graph pops up in the corner of his glasses. “ _Still unquantifiable. Would you like me to run a thorough comparison against the database?_ ”

“Not yet. Cross check with the New York sensors – see if any similar signal occurred at any other location across town, same time.”

“ _There is one_ ,” FRIDAY states after a few seconds. “ _Bleecker Street, Greenwich Village_.”

“Huh,” Tony mutters. That’s even more local than he was expecting. He’d say he feels bad about tracking the wizard even after their civil and surprisingly nice conversation, but he doesn’t, really. Strange said it himself – he could’ve used a cloaking spell, whatever that entails, if he wanted to drop off the map completely. Strange doesn’t seem the kind of man who would forget twice. And perhaps, Tony is more predictable than he thought himself.

Maybe it’s a gesture. Maybe Tony’s overthinking things. Either way, it’s something.

“File those readings and the ones from earlier under _Doctor Strange_. And encrypt that – highest security. I’ll take a closer look when I get back.”

Tony activates the suit around him once more and takes a final glance out over the river. It was something different than he was hoping for, but he would definitely say the day took a turn for the strange. Doctor Strange – that’s a name he’ll be sure to remember.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks much for reading! Feel free to let me know what you thought, I would love to know! And I have a couple more one shot fics in the works for the Stephen Strange Bingo, so stay tuned if you want. Find me on [tumblr](https://phierie.tumblr.com/) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/phieriee)


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